Harry Elkins Widener's
TITANIC
NOTHING ON EARTH COULD COME BETWEEN HIM AND HIS LIBRARY

Dear Diary,
I have a confession. Today, my lovely Elise and I consummated our love affair in the ship's library. Then we launched some butter onto the ceiling of the Union, and then peed on the statue of John Harvard in the stateroom. Tee hee!

9 p.m. Counted all the lifeboats. Looks like we don't have enough for everybody. Good thing we've got that helicopter that Johnny Lamont brought along.

9:30 p.m. Shit. That Lamont kid is such a fat-ass liar. I forgot. The helicopter hasn't been invented yet. Unless you count Da Vinci. Whatever...good thing my other pal Tommy Hilles brought some inflatable rafts.

10 p.m. Well, we ran out of plastic for our make-shift slip-and-slide, so I went and got the inflatable raft and cut it up into nice, neat strips extended all the way across the deck. Whee! Too bad we didn't think of putting in a barrier at the end until Johnny slipped off the deck and into the deep, cold waters of the North Atlantic. At least nobody else will have to slip into the deep, dark, cold waters of the North Atlantic and freeze to death!

11 p.m. Mental note: If I ever have a library named after me, I sure as heck don't want tourists coming in and traipsing all over the place, nor do I want them using the Dewey Decimal System if they sneak past the guard. Screw them and their intuitive-but-restrictive library numbering scheme, I say.

Midnight. Whoo hoo! I was taking a walk, and then I caught a glimpse through a porthole of this hottie totally naked lying down on a couch, and this dude was making of painting of her or something. He must have been gay, since she was hot, and this went on for, oh, about three hours! This is the luckiest night of my life!

2:30 a.m. The captain said we "hit an iceberg," which is our secret codeword for "I found a big bag of crack cocaine." So I'm waiting for him with my homey, Godfrey "Science" Cabot, down in the engine room, and all of a sudden these guys are like "The ship's sinking" and "Are you deaf," but I know they're just after my smack.

3 a.m. Man, it sure is cold. Looks like the captain bailed on me and stole all the smack. Oh well. I sure wish fair Harvard had required me to learn how to swim! Then maybe I could swim to warmer waters, and get a good, low-impact cardiovascular workout at the same time!

3:30 a.m. Oh, wait a second. This is going to look bad, what with them finding me frozen and wearing a black dress and high heels. And all this shrinkage, on top of that. My pimp sure will be mad. Geez, I miss him.

4 a.m. I was about to pass out, and then I heard the oars of the rescue boat breaking the water. I was about to scream, and then I heard this god-awful whistling noise coming from about 200 meters away. Well, the boat stopped heading toward me, and now I'm stuck with this fucking water-proof diary and no sensation below my neck.



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